Fortitude
by VostroCaro
Summary: for·ti·tude - /ˈfôrtiˌtood/ - noun - Courage in pain or adversity: "the two boys stuck together with great fortitude". / deanxcas slow build
1. Prologue

Okay. This walks, talks and quacks like another school AU from me. It is. And it's not.

The cover photo is from the _amazing_ fanart at peppernote . deviantart art / food-comas- 384522543

I'm planning to update this once a week, on a Sunday. I don't know if that'll be possible, but that's the plan. I'll also be posting the chapters and status updates to my writing tumblr (angelusheroicus) if you want to follow that. I'm new to keeping a writing tumblr, though, so that could either go very well or very badly.

Oh, and the last note (I promise) is that the prologue is written in a different style than the rest will probably be. I'm planning for the rest to be a regular 3rd person narrative. Prologues have just always been different in my mind, and my fingers go for broke in showing it.

Without further ado, the prologue!

* * *

Castiel has always been there for Dean, in ways not even he had noticed.

They met when Dean was two, and always doing his best to escape from under his parents' noses. He made his clumsy way into the garden, and then a little further, into the neighbours' property, which is where he found Castiel and promptly presented him with a brightly coloured toy brick he had liberated from his toy box. Castiel took it, never one to reject a gift freely given, but stared at it with no idea of how to proceed. Dean took it back and put it in his mouth to show Castiel what to do, and handed it to Castiel again.

This set the precedent for the next 15 years of their lives.

John found Dean quickly enough, but after the Winchesters realised there was a boy Dean's age just next door, he was a near-permanent fixture in their lives.

When Dean was four years old, after his brother – who very quickly became the most important thing in his life, just a little above his parents, and then came Castiel a mere slither behind – had been born, their house was burnt down. Faulty wiring. He was able to get his brother out, and Mary got herself out, but both their home and John ceased to be that night.

The house was rebuilt, but Mary found herself unable to bear living there anymore, and so they moved into a slightly smaller, slightly less clean house closer to the centre of town. Mary devoted a lot of time to making it look presentable, but it always looked just a little bit less _warm_ than their old house, to Dean.

Nevertheless, this did not impact Dean and Castiel's friendship or Castiel's ubiquity.

By the time Dean was seven, Castiel had changed, somehow, into Cas – neither boy could tell you when it occurred, but Dean had evidently decided that three syllables were far too much to handle, and so Cas was the clear solution.

Neither of them allowed anyone else but Sammy call him Cas, however – they defended the name as fiercely as seven-year-olds could.

Cas spent more time at the Winchester household than he did at his own house. Mary's cooking was far superior to what he regularly ate, they had better options for entertainment, _your house is closer to school, Dean, this way we don't have to leave Sammy out, Dean, I just _like_ your house more, Dean, is that not okay?_ and if he happened not to make it back to his house at night because Mary couldn't give him a ride back, then, well, what did it matter when Dean had a bed he could share?

People said they were best friends, or that they were like brothers, or simply that they were 'joined at the hip', but in actuality, each was just an extension of the other. They weren't the same, they were different in the best kind of way; the way that meant if one was incapable of doing something, the other could take over or would know of a way to do it. If the two could share a brain – and they often joked that they already did – each test would get 100%, no social situation would ever go south, their every desire would be achieved.

But they didn't do too badly separate.

By the time they reached their teens, it became clear that the two were physically attractive. However, while Dean was approached by tittering girls and followed by giggling whispers wherever he went, Castiel was largely ignored. Neither boy noticed, but Mary muttered to herself about _personalities being a bigger deal than people would care to think, thank you very much, so could they stop making a huge thing about being pretty?_

Dean didn't go on his first date until he was 15. He barely managed to refrain from asking if Castiel could come with them. The date went badly.

Immediately after that, he gave up on the rigidly structured idea of a 'date' – he wasn't made to go on dates, that much was clear to him. If a person wanted to be in a relationship with him – yes, person, because with Cas to talk him out of his stupidity, how could his undefined sexuality ever be a problem? – then they knew upfront that he considers a date to be 'let's meet up' and that's as much of a plan as they would be able to get out of him.

He found that most people thought it delightfully rebellious. The thought confused him.

His relationships never lasted long – he got bored of people quickly. But not Cas, never Cas.

On Cas' 16th birthday, Dean jumps on the couch next to Cas, offers him a slice of pie and asks if Cas wants any help getting a date.

Cas smiles and says he has everything he currently needs. He then takes the offered pie.

_Okay._ Dean eats a bite of his own pie. _But if I were to set you up – which I'm not – girl or guy?_

Cas pauses. _I don't believe I mind. _He takes a longer pause. He hasn't eaten a bite yet. _I think I don't feel attraction until I know the person intimately. It's hard to know._

Dean nods. _I can dig that._

They watch the movie.

So, yes. Dean and Cas fit together in a way most people will never find. Some people could call them soul mates. But that's not what matters – what matters is that nothing could rip them apart after they'd been put together so perfectly.

That kind of fortitude cannot be usurped.

And that's what their story is about.


	2. We Have Chemistry

_I think chapters will get longer as the fic goes on. There's no plot in the beginning; this is just to set the scene, so uh... yeah._

* * *

"Hello, Dean." Cas says as Dean leans his back loudly on the next locker along.

"Do we have Chem homework?" Dean neglects a greeting as part of his long-standing fight against convention, eyebrows creased in a thoughtful frown.

"Yes, but not for today. It will take you 10 minutes if you do it tonight."

"Yeah, okay." But it's not, because Dean will still try to make Cas do the work for him, citing his 'superior intellect', despite frequently scoring similarly to him on every exam and homework sheet. "It's on that bonding thing, right?"

"Yes, covalent."

"That's the one!" Dean says the words cheerfully, but still he frowns as though confused.

"Are you all right?" Cas shuts his locker.

"Yeah, I just… am I 'personable'?" The two make their way to Chemistry, footsteps in sync with one another.

"I would say so."

"Okay." A breath. "What does 'personable' mean?"

"Easy to relate to, charismatic. You're easy to talk to."

Dean pulls a face. "I'm pretty sure I only talk to you."

"But you don't 'chase people off' with your 'dictionary-like words' and 'freaky stare thing'."

"Oh yeah, I guess there's that." He grins. "But people don't _actually_ talk to me. So how does anyone know how 'personable' I am?"

"It's a good thing to be considered, Dean."

"I guess, but… how?"

Cas rolls his eyes. "Charisma can be detectable from a distance. And I believe the dictionary definition includes something about a pleasant appearance."

"So my teacher just called me hot?"

"Not exactly." Cas laughs.

"Yeah, well, I'm gonna take it to mean she did."

"You would."

###

"You sure you won't let me just copy your homework?"

"Yes, Dean. I'm sure."

###

"Dean, can we go watch the ducks before we go to yours?" Cas smiles.

Dean gives Cas a solid look. "I thought I had to do my Chem."

"You do. It will take you ten minutes. I told you."

"Sure, but you have a minor obsession with ducks. We won't get home until… five, at the earliest."

Cas changes his expression into the one Dean would call puppy eyes. "You'll have time."

There's a battle of wills. Short, because both boys know that Dean enjoys watching the ducks almost as much as Cas does.

"Fine, but you're paying for the bread."

"I never said we'd _feed_ the ducks."

"Yeah, but since when have you been able to deprive your ducks?"

###

Dean launches himself onto the sofa next to Cas. "Okay, I'm done. You're checking it?"

"We'll go over it in class tomorrow, why do you need me to?"

"Because you know it all so much better than me." Dean shrugs casually.

"Not really."

"Are you kidding? You have that photographic memory thing, you don't even need to revise, you bastard."

Cas rolls his eyes. "I have the knowledge, but often I don't understand how to apply it – you're far better at that."

"All the application in the world is useless without knowing the stuff in the first pl-"

"And all the knowledge in the world is useless without knowing how to use i-"

"But you _do_ know how to use it, that's the p-"

"Well, I suppose, but not _al_-"

"Doesn't matter, _that_'s why I need you to look over it." Dean grins.

Cas shoots Dean a dirty look.

"You're smarter than me, Cas, that's just the way it is. You're pretty much a _genius_. So do me a favour and look it over so you don't show me up too much in class, yeah?"

Cas gets up to look over Dean's work to hide the pink on his cheeks, but Dean knows it's there. It's the same way Dean knows when to drop his humour and careless persona for heart-stoppingly kind brutal honesty to get what he needs from his friend.

###

"You got all the answers right, Dean."

"Woah, really?"

"Yes. I am constantly telling you that you underestimate your intelligence. Do you believe me yet?"

"Nah. I mean, the other day I walked into an English room, thinking that's where my Biology class was." Dean says with a wink.

Cas rolls his eyes. "That's not actually a mark of your intelligence, Dean, it's a mark that you don't share that class with me."

"Of course. What ever would I do without you, my more intelligent counterpart?"

"You used the word 'counterpart'. I think that hints at _some_ intelligence."

"Sure, _some_. Not much, though. I'm pretty sure I learnt that from you," Dean grins. "Why aren't you doing Biology, anyway? You're pretty much in love with nature."

"Yes, and all I wish to know I can learn on my own, rather than following set lesson structures, and learning about how plants transpire, for instance… and there's the added bonus of being able to avoid-"

"Mr Crowley. Yeah, I get that. What movie d'you wanna watch?"

"Are there any here we haven't yet watched?"

"Well, I got the boxset for _Dr. Sexy_ the other day…"

"Anything but that."

Dean grins. "You're gonna regret saying that."

###

Dean picked the most gory movie he could find in a minute of searching, knowing very well how little tolerance Cas had for fake blood and fingernails being wrenched off. He also knew, however, that Cas' pride would force him to stay and watch after saying he would watch it – even in such vague terms as he had.

Their usual position for watching films is with Cas' head in Dean's lap, but this time, Cas had his hands in a tight grip on Dean's thighs.

"Dude, careful, I'd rather have use of my legs tomorrow."

But Dean found Cas' terror amusing, as a good friend does.

###

Cas, somehow, falls asleep during the movie. It is not only remarkable in that he had such physical reactions to what occurred on the screen, but also in that he rarely falls asleep before Dean.

"Oi, asshole. Wake up. You gonna make me carry you upstairs?" Dean nudges Cas gently, not unwilling to carry him if he's sleeping deeply enough to ignore Dean.

He sighs for show, though, when Cas only responds by a clumsy turn of a few degrees away from Dean's hand. "Fine, but, for the record: you're a dick."

Dean and Cas run together some mornings, and Dean does some weight lifting separately for vanity's sake, so though Cas is all lean muscle, and heavier than his lean figure would suggest, Dean can lift him with little trouble.

He grumbles, though, just in case anyone's watching and happens to think Dean's perfectly okay with carrying Cas like he would a wife.

He doesn't mind. But he doesn't want people to _know_ that.

Dean puts Cas down on his bed, and follows him shortly after – both already in sleepwear, because 'real clothes are overrated' – where Cas quickly goes in to cuddle.

"You fucker, I knew you were awake." Dean whispers, because Mary's room is next door.

"No you didn't." Cas replies smugly.

"How many times do I have to tell you 'no cuddling' before you'll leave me alone?"

"You can tell me as many times as you like, but actions speak louder than words and I've lost count of the many times I have wok-"

"Shut up and go to sleep, dick." Dean turns around grumpily, feels Cas' breath on his neck, and wishes he could have a larger bed – singles make it difficult to avoid cuddling, and all but impossible to dislodge Cas' octopus limbs from around his waist.

He tolerates it for a few minutes, before he turns around again. "Fine, for fuck's sake, but I'm not being the little spoon, I'm taller than you."

Cas' silence was more smug than any sentence he could have replied with.


	3. Bleeding Love

**the first chapters' names are trying to be funny and probably failing. I don't know. I'm bad at titles.**

**my tumblr url is angelusheroicus; I may post updates on this if I feel it c:**

* * *

"So what's going on in the world, Joanna Beth?" Dean drops his bag next to the blonde girl with a shit-eating grin.

"Fuck you, Winchester." She swats at his arm.

"Well, if you would be so inclined…" he grants her a lascivious wink.

Dean would consider Jo his best friend outside of Cas and Sammy. Mary meets up with Jo's mother, Ellen, at least twice a month. The two women never seemed to be particularly friendly, but they were always civil and their meetings were certain. These meetings meant Dean and Sam spent a lot of time with Jo, and though Jo is closer to Sam's age than Dean's, Jo formed a closer kinship with Dean than with Sam.

When Dean had been young enough that he asked questions incessantly, he'd asked Mary why she was friends with Ellen. She'd told him that it was because Ellen was endlessly loyal and knew everything about everyone, and expanded only to define the word 'loyal' for Dean.

That description, Dean has found, fits Jo just as well as Mary says it does Ellen, which is why Dean seeks Jo out during school time, at least once a week, rather than stick only to the fortnightly visits.

There are three ways Dean knows of to know everything about his school. The first – the most moral – is to know everyone, or enough people that the news will gravitate to you like rain to the ground.

The second – Jo's route – is simply to listen a lot. Jo used to use the first route, but has been unable to since a football player called Brady pushed the boundaries of friendship a little too far with her, and she pulled a knife on him.

Instead of ostracising the potential rapist, the school community shunned 'the freak with a knife collection'.

There's no accounting for taste.

Dean's route, the third route, would probably be called cheating. It's asking one of the people in the first two groups just to tell you.

Jo doesn't mind how Dean will appear to her in school for a few minutes every so often to catch up – she knows it doesn't mean that's all he finds her good for, because he's good at not bringing up school at all when he joins Mary on her visits to Ellen. She knows he's never been one for sugar coating things, and she knows he cares about her under the 'Joanna Beth's, that he cares about her more than he cares about what people will say about him.

So she smiles and delivers him the news, graces she does not bestow on just anyone.

"Number one on the list is that Lisa Braeden _finally_ lost her virginity to-"

"Yeah, you _know_ I don't give a shit." Dean smiles pleasantly.

"Sorry, just desperately trying to prove to myself you're straight before I give up hope entirely." Jo smiles angelically. "Uh, they've shit-listed Kevin-"

"What, again?"

"Yep."

"Fuck's sake, he's a good kid."

"You just say that because he lets you copy his Biology work occasionally."

"How do you- never mind. Yeah, but he _is_ a good kid; he doesn't let me do it all the time and I do have to ask nicely. And he doesn't make me pay, which would be all kinds of sketchy. Why don't they ever shit-list Andy?"

"Because then everyone would know they're all secretly gay?"

"They're not." Dean rolls his eyes like it's a personal insult to him.

"Do you think Andy cares?"

"Why does anyone trust Andy?"

"Because they'd rather trust him than me."

"Always wise."

Jo taps a pen on the table before speaking again. "Are we ever gonna talk about the fact that you're smarter than me but you copy people's work?"

Dean gives her the well-worn eyes of 'I can't fucking believe you're doing this to me, too'. "Dude. You know everything about everyone. I don't even know what's available for lunch today, and I just _bought_ it."

Jo rolls her eyes.

"Plus, I only copy for Biology because Cas isn't there to correct me."

"Sure, that's why. It's not because Cas isn't there to stare at you until you learn the errors of your ways."

Dean levels a dry look at her.

"Oh yeah, Cas is in the gossip, too."

"What?" Dean says, and his drastic change of facial expression would be almost funny if the look didn't spell out murder.

"Yeah, people saw blood on his shirt on… Tuesday, I think. And, like, they know it's not from a nosebleed, because for some reason _everyone_ knows when someone has a nosebleed, and it can't be uterus blood because he's a guy, so people are swinging between thinking he's in the mafia or his parents are abusive. I think that when it comes to what people _actually_ believe, though, it's the second."

Dean considers this for a second. "So they're not giving him shit about it?"

"Nah. And hey, don't you give him shit about it either – you know he'd have mentioned it to you if it was a thing."

"Yeah." Dean murmurs; he wouldn't mention something he'd consider trivial, though. And his definition of 'trivial' has a large range, and is often wildly different to Dean's.

The silence is charged, but not in the good way.

"You don't… I mean, his parents don't seem like… the abusive type, right?" Jo asks, truly concerned in a way that makes her face seem younger.

"No, of course not, they-" Dean stops. Tries to think. Hits a solid wall.

He knows nothing about Cas' parents.

He must have met them; you can't be friends with someone for as long as he has with Castiel without knowing each other's _parents_ – the living ones, at least. Hell, Mary treats Cas like a third son.

But Dean can't remember even one thing about Cas' parents – a face, a smell, a hair colour… even a _mention_.

"Nah, Cas… Cas' home life is fine."

Jo bites her lip. "Any reason for that hesitation?"

Dean smiles. "Nah. My brain just isn't functioning today. See y'around, yeah?"

"Uh, sure?" Jo waves sarcastically at Dean's swiftly retreating figure.

###

Dean finds Cas, very easily, in the school library, typing up notes from a lesson, probably from that day. He tries very hard not to notice Cas' small, bright smile at his approach.

"Oi, finish your sentence or whatever. I've gotta talk to you." He hisses. "You don't mind missing English this afternoon, right?"

It's not a question, so Cas doesn't answer it. He closes his document and logs off. Both know Dean will try to make endless excuses not to go to lessons and that Cas will force Dean to anyway.

They make their silent way out onto the field, Cas trailing behind Dean by a mere half-step. It's chilly outside, but not cold, so though both boys stick their hands into their pockets, they are content with the temperature.

"What's happening, Dean?" The modernism sounds somehow archaic, from Cas.

"We're best friends, right? Pretty much family."

Cas nods slowly.

"So we can tell each other anything, right? Like I told you everything about all that shit with Lisa a while back, and that was cool, and you didn't care – well, you cared, but you didn't _care_… shit, you know what I mean – and… yeah. We tell each other everything?"

Blue eyes blink. "Not _everything_, I would be highly uninterested in hearing your everyday meals, for example."

"Cas."

"Yes." Cas answers the original question.

"Why don't I know anything about your parents?"

Had Dean not been looking blankly into Cas' eyes, he wouldn't have seen the microsecond of panic in Cas' eyes before they went back to their regular blue. _So you have been hiding them._

"I- they're not worth mentioning. They're not interesting, or…"

Cas sees Dean's expression, and sighs. "They're not _nice_ or _around_ and I don't care for them much and I'd rather not let something I have long since come to terms with be involved in _us_."

"How much is 'long since'?"

Cas shrugs. "Years. More than half my life. I'm not sure, it… it wasn't an instantaneous thing."

"Your parents weren't around when you were a _kid_?"

Cas shrugs again. "I had Mary." He gently nudges Dean. "And a friend like you is more than most people could wish for."

"Yeah, but… surely my mom must have asked for you to come around sometimes. Or are you saying you've been left alone all the time since you were _four_?"

"Don't be ridiculous, Dean."

Dean shakes his head slowly. "I just… it _is_ ridiculous, Cas, isn't it? That I don't even know your parents' names?"

Cas hesitates. "My father's name is Joshua. I- I never knew my mother. I didn't hear much about her. I don't _know_ her name." He's whispering, and that, at least, Dean can understand.

Dean puts an arm around Cas' shoulder and doesn't press. Cas is the quiet one of the two, the one less likely to tell every detail of his life. And Dean doesn't mind, most of the time, but he does wish his friend would tell him more, would talk more comfortably. Would let him know the basic details of his life without a push.

"Last thing: apparently earlier this week you came in with blood on your shirt. Are you secretly part of the mafia?"

Cas laughs quietly and stands up, gently shrugging Dean's arm off. "Come on, we've got afternoon lessons."

Dean pulls a face at his best friend.


	4. Loving Arms

Dean Winchester does not go to school on November 2nd.

He prides himself on a high attendance record; he doesn't get ill often, and Cas gives him that disapproving look if he skips any lessons. His pride doesn't mean he _never_ skips, but it means he doesn't do it _often_.

That's why he feels like he's allowed to take this one day of the year off.

Sam doesn't know – they don't often cross paths in school, and his lack of attendance doesn't make the gossip as he's hardly the most studious person around, and he does it _every year_.

Dean doesn't know whether or not Mary knows. The teachers never seem to care; he catches up on the notes, does all his homework on time, and he's pretty sure they know it's the anniversary of his father's death. So he's unsure as to whether they tell her. If she knows, she doesn't say anything.

Cas _does_ know, but he also knows that if Dean wanted him there, he'd ask.

And he doesn't want to skip school.

Okay. So Dean hasn't any recollection of his father beyond a few hazy memories – he hasn't seen him since he was _four_. He doesn't really take the day to mourn, honestly, or whatever it is people expect him to.

Well, he kinda does.

He remembers more than Sam does – remembers John lifting him so he could say good night to his brother, reading to him, teaching him what noises a pig made.

He also remembers what Mary was like when he'd leave, and how he'd assure her he still loved her, he was coming back. He remembers how often he had to do that.

And then John was gone, and he hugged Mary's legs and told her the same lines, but this time she didn't smile, there was no pie to offer him. And he didn't know what the problem was or what he could do, so he kept pressing until she put on a movie for them to watch.

He doesn't remember much about his early years, but he remembers enough to know the difference in his life when he had a father and when he didn't.

So he mourns what little he knew of John, but he more mourns what there could have been. What Sam, Mary and he could have had if there hadn't been that freak fire years ago.

_Baseball games_, he tells himself. _He'd be someone who'd have taken me to baseball games. Someone to laugh at him and tell him not to be such a girl, maybe, which wouldn't be great, but could be back up to me when I don't want chick flick moments. Someone to make his mom smile. Someone who'd encourage me to join a sports team, and not always to focus on my homework. Someone to talk to girls about who isn't a girl or Sam or absolutely unable to understand people._

Sam doesn't feel like they're lacking anything, and maybe they're not. But it's easy to think they are, when he sees the others in their year complaining about how overbearing their dads are, how embarrassing they are, dancing in public and ruffling their hair in front of girls. Dean just _wants_ that, knows he _could_ have had it, and knows exactly how he _didn't_.

And it's _hard_.

But that, again, is not the whole reason Dean takes the day off – though, if anyone was to ask, that's what he'd say.

Well, he wouldn't, he'd let Cas give them the look that says it's none of their business, but if it was someone he _would_ tell, he'd grunt and say it's the anniversary of his dad's death like it's something they shouldn't talk about.

Sam tells Dean he's emotionally constipated, because he doesn't talk about his feelings. Which is untrue, but he doesn't exactly talk about them with regularity and yeah, he'd rather not.

But Dean would say, if he'd ever deign to confess this to anyone, even Cas, that he saves up his emotions. He comes out to the woods that border the town and punches trees and sits in the foetal position and screams, sometimes, and if he lets a few manly tears, or a stream of less-manly tears, go then the trees aren't going to tell anyone.

He takes anything bad that happens to him over the year, squishes it into a small box somewhere below his lungs, and he locks it up. He closes his eyes, counts to ten, and it's gone. He only lets the emotions there come out once a year, today.

It doesn't always work, but it works enough. And it's not like he has a backlog, he's not punching people all the time or yelling at sweet old ladies.

So it's a nice ritual, even if the second of November happens to fall on a Saturday or a Sunday and Cas cautiously stays away and doesn't call him or text him in a way that's utterly alien, though he knows he wouldn't reply if Cas did. Not until the evening, anyway.

This year, it's different, though.

Dean doesn't know how Cas knows where he is, but it doesn't come as a huge surprise when he hears his smart shoes crunching the mostly-dead leaves behind him, because Cas always seems to know where Dean is. Most of the surprise comes from the fact that Cas is here _at all_.

He doesn't offer an explanation, so Dean just moves a bit to the side to offer Cas room on the log he's sat on and they sit quietly.

And Dean feels uncomfortable around his best friend in a way he hasn't ever before. He feels almost as though he should be explaining himself, which is ridiculous because he's never had to before. But suddenly, his 'day off' sounds stupid in itself.

_Everyone else talks about the shit that's going on rationally_, he thinks. _Cas would listen to you talk about abc conjecture, or something equally boring, and he wouldn't judge me. He listens to everything else I say, so why the fuck can't I just talk to him about shit? Not be a fucking truant._

And then he realises that Sam was right, he was emotionally constipated, probably still is, and he thinks that he was right, too, because he _is_ an idiot, because that wasn't a difficult revelation, so why did it take him 17 years? And then he has to wonder why it only takes Cas _appearing_ to fix shit that's been wrong for so long that he thought it was right.

And Cas probably isn't aware of the entire contents of this internal monologue, but he does seem to know when it finishes, and quietly says, "Tell me about John."

And Dean _talks_. For over an hour, he tells Cas every little thing he remembers of John – how he always smelt faintly of leather, and a musty smell he can't quite recollect but thinks must have been some kind of alcohol, whiskey maybe, and how he loved Mary a lot but never enough. He tells Cas that he'd watch all the awful Spanish soap operas on TV and he'd have more than one beer a night and how he bought the Impala when Mary wanted a van because a random stranger told him to.

He says he doesn't know what colour his eyes are. He tells Cas that he'd never play games with Dean, but he did read to him, and _is that a bit reversed for a father? Well, I guess you're the wrong person to ask. But yeah, that's what happened._

And he moves on, somehow, to what he wishes John could have been, what he feels like he's missed out on. The parts of himself he's sure must have come from John, and how it would have been nice not to feel like he's the only one like him.

Cas listens and doesn't respond, which he's good at, and he also seems to hear things Dean doesn't say, doesn't even think, but feels intrinsically, and responds to those, instead of what Dean actually said, as soon as Dean is done, "I think John would be proud of you, Dean."

Dean's guard is down, because even though he's decided that having his 'day off' is stupid, it still _is_ his 'day off'. So he cries, just a little.

And he doesn't remember when it happens, but his tears stop being little, until the two boys end up in a strong, hands-clutching-shirts embrace, until Dean's tears stop, until Dean feels like more of an idiot of before, especially when he sees that Cas' plain white shirt is almost transparent now.

"Talking is hard." He says weakly, but instead of pulling away, he rests into Cas' lap. His midsection, where he kept his locked box, actually, is sore from the huge breaths he'd taken, so he has to lie down. _Has_ to.

And Cas just smiles down at Dean, smiling with crinkly, stupidly blue eyes, and if there's one thing Dean could never regret, it's him.

* * *

**this is the second-to-last chapter until the plot starts - just one more chapter of this slightly-fluffy, neglected-plot _stuff_.**

**my tumblr is angelusheroicus if you wanna check that out!**


	5. the Beginning

**Okay, I did say the plot starts _after_ this chapter, but you can see pretty obvious hints of it here. Hopefully it's not too obvious, though, and the beginning should be suitably fluffy to make up for it...**

* * *

"So there's this new movie coming out tonight, you're coming with me, right?" Dean asks when he meets Cas for lunch.

"I suppose it will be far more to your taste than mine?"

"I dunno, man, it's got some science-y bits in, apparently."

Cas merely blinks.

"So, yeah, more my speed than yours." Cas rolls his eyes with a small smile. "Hey, I can't go see it alone!"

"Don't you usually see these movies with Sam?"

"He's at his friend's house. Hey, you know you love coming to the movies with me!"

"No, Dean, I prefer it to spending my Friday evenings alone. That does not mean I enjoy it."

Dean rolls his eyes back, sarcastically. "Which clearly just means you can't bear to spend time away from me."

"Clearly, given I just spent an hour and a half in a class across the school from you, and you were the one to meet me at my locker."

Dean shrugs. "I can't bear to spend time away from you either, then. If we walk back to mine after school, I could drive us to the the-"

"Yeah, let's walk to the movie."

Dean pouts.

###

"Come on, Cas, you can admit that was _seriously epic_, right?" Dean says, almost at shouting pitch, as the two leave the movie.

"The movie itself? No. The way you jumped at the 3D effects? Sure." Cas smiles winningly.

Dean nudges Cas; a move lacking almost entirely in grace, "shut up. You know the film was good. And the 3D was impressive for live action, come on."

Cas sighs. "I've seen worse?"

"I'll take it. What's the time?"

"It's almost nine."

"_Shit_. I told mom I'd be back by nine."

"We can't make it back by then."

"Nah, but we can make it back quicker if we take this shortcut I know…"

"Dean. I thought you were the one who enjoyed horror movies."

Dean casts Cas a blank look.

"Doesn't that sound like the premise of a grisly murder in a horror movie?"

"Yeah, but… this is real life, Cas, and we're _late_."

"You could just call Mary and _tell_-"

"Yeah, or we could hurry. Don't you trust me?"

"Of course, Dean," Cas rolls his eyes, "It's the alleys I don't trust."

Dean smirks. "I can protect you, Cas, don't worry."

Cas sighs. "You won't listen to reason, will you?"

"I think it's _you_ not listening to reason, technically, but yeah, I'm not changing my mind."

"Fine. Let's go."

Dean grabs Cas' hand with a grin and pulls him along at a brisk walk. "We can run when we get into the backstreets, grandmas think we're stealing bags if you run in the streets."

"You have much experience with the inside of grandmas' minds, then?"

"Geesh, you're pretty sarcastic today. PMS-ing?"

"That's impossible, Dean. I'm male."

"Yeah, yeah, you keep saying that."

Then conversation ceases, because they're running and they've long since realised talking is not worth the difficulty when running.

Cas simply follows Dean because what he said is true: he does trust him. If Dean says he knows the way home, then he does, and that's that. If he happens to get lost, the pair will call Mary and find their way home.

This method works, and the two are almost home, almost out of the alleys, when Dean stops to laugh. "Let's not go jogging tomorrow morning, yeah? Have a lie-in for once."

It's clear he wants to stop and catch his breath before going into his home, which is understandable – he wishes to pretend he was only a few minutes late, and that's forgivable if he didn't have to run to achieve that.

Cas catches his breath before Dean, and politely waits against a wall. He doesn't say anything; Dean will gain his breath back quicker without speaking.

When Dean's breathing is almost back to normal, he talks to Cas again. "Well, that was an adventure and a half, right? Fun night."

Cas wouldn't reply to that, as he deems it a throwaway comment, but Dean looks at him expectantly, so he shrugs. "I've had better."

"Just 'cause you don't like leaving the house. It was one of the better nights we've spent out?" Dean takes a step towards Cas.

Cas pretends to consider. "Hm, I've always held a soft spot for Sam's twelfth birthday party…"

Dean rolls his eyes and takes another step closer, a teasing smile on his lips – he knows Cas is the one who often invades personal space, and enjoys the flipped roles. It's all Cas can do to stay as still as he can and still look casual. "I didn't say the best, I said one of the better."

"I've never prized the forced act of running, it's only reminiscent of having to run for my life."

"You have experience of that?" Dean says, suddenly leaving only an inch of space between him and Cas.

"Yes. Lots of it."

"I'm sure." And they're both murmuring, and it's surreal that Dean is looking directly at Cas' lips without hesitation, without even a small flicker, but what's more surreal is that it doesn't feel surreal _at all_.

Cas could swear that Dean starts to lean forward when he hears a loud footstep, so he pushes Dean back quickly.

A loud footstep often marks a loud presence.

"Cas, wha-?"

"Dean." Cas interrupts, strongly, quietly, gesturing to the man with a crazy smile and a gleaming knife.

Dean shuts up instantly.

"Cas-ti-el." The man says, cheerfully drawing out each syllable. "What a surprise to see _you_ here, so close to a _man_." He starts to advance, twirling the knife haphazardly.

Cas markedly doesn't reply, and keeps his eyes on the man, avoiding the look Dean's throwing him – 'you _know_ him?'

The man tuts. "Not going to reply? So rude, Castiel. I believe you may have lost your manners, rather… I suppose _he_ had something to do with it… well, I can fix that." He takes a step directly towards Dean, and Cas moves without thinking, and doesn't stop until the man is pinned securely against the wall.

"Dean, _close your eyes_." He yells, and does not proceed until his friend – conditioned through a lifetime of trust – follows his orders.

Dean not only closes his eyes but covers them. He hears only a horrible, almost inhuman scream, and resolves not to remove his hands until Cas gives the order, despite his strong desire to stare, just stare.

When there's silence, he doesn't move.

When he feels Cas' familiar hand on his shoulder, he doesn't move.

"Dean. We have to go." Now he moves.

"Do we have to call the police?" He's distantly shocked by how shaky his voice sounds, and tells himself firmly to _get a grip_.

"Neither of us are injured, only he is. Calling the police is more likely to go against us."

"Is he _okay_?" Dean looks at the man, crumpled on the floor next to his knife.

Cas smiles faintly. "Yes, he's fine. He'll wake up soon. We need to go _home_, Dean."

Dean nods quickly. "Yeah. Yeah, mom'll start panicking soon. Yeah."

Given he doesn't move, Cas takes Dean's hand gently and starts pulling him.

Dean follows, and in a swift movement, takes his hand back. "Yeah, we can go home, but we're talking about this later." _You're hiding things. More things. Bigger things than your parents, and I can't really believe that._

Dean is looking pointedly away from Cas, but Cas nods anyway.

###

"You're home late." Mary says, slightly disapprovingly.

"Yeah, well, a man with a knife jumped out at us." Dean replies sarcastically, falling into one of the kitchen chairs. His facial expression is the same stony indifference it has been since he last spoke to Cas.

Mary looks between the boys, settling on Cas for a long second. "You better stay here tonight, then, Cas. You two might go into shock. I'll make hot drinks."

"Shouldn't you call Cas' parents if he's staying the night?" Dean mumbles.

Mary fixes him a hard look. "Cas has been staying the night randomly since he was five, Dean. I hardly think his parents would be concerned now."

Dean doesn't respond.

###

The two sit on Dean's bed with their mugs for more than five minutes before Dean broaches conversation.

"So. You're Chuck Norris, too."

"Not ex-"

"What's your reason for hiding this one?" Dean interrupts; and that's fair, he thinks, because he doesn't need to hear Cas' lack of social comprehension.

Cas slumps a little. "It's not a thing one brings up casually in conversation." It sounds almost like a question.

"It's the sort of thing I'd like to know."

"I know."

"Then why didn't you tell me?"

Cas pauses, then shugs.

Dean's hand tightens around his mug.

Cas' eyes flash up to meet Dean's, which is the first time Dean realises that Cas hasn't been meeting his eyes. "You may have noticed that I don't often talk about myself, Dean. Maybe you've noticed I'm not very good at it. You have no problem, but I am not you. If you could kindly stop getting pissed at me for it, I would be greatly appreciative." Cas' voice is level and quiet, but the anger is evident.

Dean's eyes widen. "Woah, you can't make this out to be _my fault_."

Cas sighs. "I'm not. But I still learn about you every day, and you get angry with me and instigate talks every time you learn something about me."

"It's a little different. It's not like you learn how to take down a dude with a knife overnight. When the hell did you learn that?"

"I've been taught since I was very young."

"How? You're almost always here."

Cas smiles a little. "It's a family thing, I suppose. Once you've grasped it, you don't need an instructor – I can practice whenever I happen to be at my own house."

"Oh hey, does that mean you can teach me?"

"I can try."

Dean smiles. "Then you're forgiven."

Cas smiles back, and both know that not all is forgotten. That Dean's smile comes with the unspoken _but it's precarious_.

Then Dean laughs. "And I told you that _I_ would protect _you_ in those alleys."

"I've never needed protecting." Cas offers back, with a tinge of amusement to his tone.

"And you know I'll never learn that." Dean winks. "I'm just gonna say goodnight to mom, you can get changed or whatever."

Cas nods.

A couple of minutes later, Dean walks in on Cas shirtless and in baggy pyjama bottoms. "I can't find mom."

* * *

**my tumblr: angelusheroicus**

**also? sorry xo**


	6. Wings

Cas straightens himself up to his full height, and Dean can't help but think that he looks impressive, as though he could save the world. "Dean, it's been a long day. You should sleep."

Dean frowns. "Cas, did you hear wh-"

"Come here." Dean follows Cas' orders with his lifetime of trust and a hazy, shocked mind, and sits on the bed as Cas gestures for him to do.

"Cas, my mom nee-"

"It's all right, Dean, I will look after her. You need to sleep." Cas smiles gently at Dean, who can't help but smile back, only a little, even as he opens his mouth to protest. Cas reaches out and carefully, definitely places two fingers to Dean's forehead, and his eyes grow heavy.

Cas helps Dean lie in his bed properly, before turning and walking out of the room.

The last thing Dean remembers thinking before he's dead to the world is that Cas can't save the world without a shirt on.

###

Dean is faintly surprised when he wakes up, because he remembers Cas having been there last night but he wakes up cold. And it's not the cold of Cas' feet, either, it's the cold of Cas not touching him at all.

The flippant part of him wants to throw a party – _he finally left me to sleep without cudding!_ – a slightly smaller part feels a pang – _it's kinda nice to cuddle, I guess_ – and the rest of him feels cold, remembering that Cas was _there_ last night, but not in bed. _He went to search for mom_.

He sits up quickly, and Cas is at the foot of his bed, cross-legged. "Hello, Dean."

Dean blinks a couple of times, then rubs his eyes. "What, didn't you even sleep?"

"We have to talk."

"Isn't that my line?" Cas doesn't respond. "Right, okay. Are you breaking up with me?"

"Dean."

"Yeah, sorry. Go ahead." Dean doesn't think Cas is blinking.

"I'm an angel."

Dean stops breathing for a second, then he's sure he's misheard. "Sorry, you're what?"

"An angel of the Lord. The angel of Thursday, to be exact."

"Yeah, you were named after him. Castiel, angel of Thursday. What of it?"

"No, Dean. I _am_ him."

Dean smiles and starts to shake his head when the lights flicker and _fucking hell_ a pair of _wings_ appears on the wall behind Cas.

Well, not actual wings, the… shadow of them, he guesses.

He gapes.

Cas waits patiently.

He waits for a while.

"You _grew up with me_."

"Yes. Well, no. I was there whilst you grew up, and this body also grew up. I have been alive and growing up for millennia."

"_Why_?"

"I was assigned to be your guardian angel."

"I'm not Thursday," Dean says, an instinct he wants to kick himself for.

Cas smiles slightly. "No, Thursday does not need protecting."

"Why you, then?"

Cas shrugs. "It is not my place to question."

Dean frowns slightly, but does not push. "Why _me_?"

"It is imperative to Heaven that you should survive."

"Why?"

"It is not my place to question."

"Are you gonna answer that to any question you don't want to answer?"

Cas smiles a little again. "Yeah, maybe. It's true, though. I am merely a soldier in the ranks of Heaven."

"I can't be that important, then."

Cas' face becomes stony. "Even a mere warrior of Heaven can do far more than most creatures on this earth. The protection of Heaven is never anything to disregard."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Dean asks, quietly.

"It was a part of my orders. Not only that, but humans are not supposed to know of the existence of creatures they would consider unnatural or superhuman."

"Then why are you telling me now?"

"It was becoming… difficult to keep from you, I found. Heaven agreed. You were noticing discrepancies. My lack of parents, for instance."

"Your major fighting skills." Dean nods.

"Yes. Uh… that was a demon, just by the way."

"_What_?"

"Yes. He was another factor in my reveal – creatures are noticing my presence. It was only a matter of time, power has a certain sense that begs to be detected. I rarely use my powers, but…"

"You say _creatures_. Are there more than angels and demons?" Dean is incredulous, but this routine of Cas teaching him entirely new stuff is familiar and easy, and he feels the knowledge slipping into his brain and knows he will remember it far more than the Latin name for bronchitis, for example.

"Yes. Vampires, werewolves, shapeshifters, ghosts, ghouls; creatures you wouldn't recognise the name of." Cas smiles in a mockery of Dean's smirk.

"Wait. Why was a demon going after us in an alley with a _knife_? I'm assuming you're stronger than the average knife."

"I am. The knife was for anyone else who happened to come down the alley – he didn't want to draw attention to himself and the knife would deter others without leaving a trail of dead bodies. I would have noticed them."

"Are you psychic then?"

Cas smiles. "Not exactly."

"What are your powers?"

"I'm not a superhero, Dean."

"Sounds kinda like you are."

Cas rolls his eyes. "I can fly, but it's more like teleportation, you'd say. I am impervious to most weapons. I don't bleed. I am immortal. I can smite, and that involves killing demons, who are pretty tricky. I can time travel. Strength superior to humans, invisibility, telekinesis, telepathy, especially in dreams, I can put people to sleep, I can see unnatural aspects of hidden creatures, memory manipulation-"

"Okay, okay, enough. You made me fall asleep last night, right?"

"Yes. That's what you got from that?"

"Shut up, it matters to me. What's happening about mom? And Sam, actually, shouldn't he be back soon? Am I allowed to drop out of school?"

"No, you're not allowed to drop out of school. I did not spend your lifetime trying to convince you to spend your time there for no reason, Dean."

Dean rolls his eyes. "Yeah, okay, whatever. Moving on."

"I was unable to locate your mother in a cursory search. It is more likely that she left than she was taken – there is nothing to indicate anything that isn't human has been here other than me. I have asked Sam's friend's parents if he can stay with them for a short while longer and they agreed. I have called the police about Mary's disappearance and they have agreed to allow you to stay here without Mary so long as you have an adult looking after you."

"Which adult would that be?"

"My father."

"Wait. Your dad would be God, right?"

"Yes. Well, on record, his name is Chuck and he simply works out of town a lot, but yes, my father would be God."

"Your records say your dad's name is Chuck?"

"Yes."

"God's called Chuck."

"Well, n-" Dean gives Cas the look that means he's being a killjoy. "Yes."

"That's great!" Dean laughs, so Cas leaves him to it.

His friend hasn't seemed to realise that his mother has left and won't be returning for a considerable while. He's not going to push.

"Wait, did mom know about you?"

"Yes."

"Then how come I didn't?"

Cas hesitates. "She witnessed my powers at a time whereupon it would have meant letting her die had I not."

"When was that?"

Cas doesn't answer.

"You saved her from the fire, didn't you?"

Cas nods.

Dean bites his lip, then wriggles his nose. "Why didn't you save my dad?" He's quiet. He sounds younger. Cas hurts.

"I did not know the fire was going to happen. I should have. I only… I only had time to save one person inside your house, after I got you and Sam out. You were my priority. I… saved Mary. I couldn't save John."

Dean nods a little bit. "Okay. Okay." He shakes his head once, quickly, and then looks up at Castiel. "So. What do we do?"

"About?"

"Finding mom. Keeping me safe for this fate the angels want. I mean, I could tell you that you're gonna teach me how to protect myself from these creatures, but I'm pretty sure you already know I'm gonna make you so there's no point." He grins, but it's strained.

Cas smiles back. "You're not as untrained as you'd expect. I can teach you about the creatures, however."

"Great. What do we do about mom?"

"You do nothing. We cannot raise suspicion. I will search for her whilst you sleep."

Dean frowns. "Don't you sleep?"

"No."

"But-"

"I've become very good at faking."

Dean looks hurt for a second before he wipes it away completely. How curious, Cas thinks, that it would be lying about _sleeping_ that gets him. "So the snuggling was just to put me out, not to help you sleep?" He raises his eyebrows.

"No, I enjoyed it. Annoying you was just an advantage." Cas smiles a little.

"Fuck you."

Cas pauses for a second. "Actually, if you wish you learn more about these creatures, perhaps you should ask Jo. She could teach you." Then he gets off the bed quickly to start to make Dean breakfast.

"_Jo knew before me_?"

* * *

**apologies for the filler-like chapter, but Cas needed to explain to Dean. I didn't think it would be this long, but there you go.**

**I'm not so keen on this chapter, if I'm honest, but that's what happens when I have a busy week and end up in a bad mood when I have to write a chapter. Hope it's better for you than it is for me xo**


	7. Help

Castiel gently nudges Dean awake on Monday with a soft smile. Dean pretends that he's happy not to make up being cuddled by his best friend. He grumbles about having a literal angel on his shoulder but his eyes don't sparkle when he waits for Castiel's laugh.

He complains about having Chemistry first thing on a Monday morning with a teacher who has an incomprehensible accent, but it holds no bite. Castiel pretends it's necessary to drag him to every lesson.

When they settle in to watch an action movie later, Castiel pretends not to notice that Dean does not drape himself over Castiel or tell him everything about the movie as though they have not watched it at least ten times before that day.

Then Dean tries to go to sleep and Castiel watches him from the end of the bed until he's sure Dean will not fall asleep naturally, at which point he presses two fingers to his friend's forehead until his body relaxes in a sudden movement. He has to tear himself away from his friend to search for Mary until he has to wake Dean up again.

On Tuesday, Dean is filled with a curious tension and only stops talking when they are in lessons. He refuses to let Castiel get a word in edgewise. He still does not fall asleep on his own.

On Wednesday he rarely talks at all. He and Castiel walk alongside, but Castiel feels as though the gap between them is miles wide. He does not even close his eyes after he gets into bed, just looks at Castiel.

That night, Castiel searches more frantically for Mary. It was reckless – he overstretched himself and passed out in Minnesota somewhere. It appears, however, that he has an alarm clock tuned into Dean's needs, for he wakes up just in time to be able to wake Dean up for school.

It's Thursday and Dean does not question the hunch in Castiel's back or his long, slow blinks. Dean's eyes sparkle more and his gait is more confident, but he barely looks at Castiel. He falls asleep on his own, but it takes almost an hour. Castiel feels useless.

On Friday, Dean's first words to Castiel are "I'm sorry." His eyes are sincere, and he acts almost normal that day. Castiel catches him looking at a picture of Sam on his phone and has a sudden realisation of where he's fucked up. He quickly tells Dean he has a project he has got to work on this lunch and does not see him until the end of school. Dean is suspicious, but has enough lingering trust of Castiel that he does not question. Castiel puts him to sleep that night so he has more time.

At roughly 3am Dean time, Castiel manages to latch onto Mary's consciousness. He also detects over ten demons, so he knows he cannot go in. Luckily, due to the late hour, Mary is asleep, so he walks into her dream. "Mary."

She is dreaming of her boys, so Castiel does not dissipate the dream, merely hold it in place to resume when she wakes. He is sure that dreams are one of the very few pleasures she is currently getting.

"Cas. You can't rescue me."

"I know. I am not strong enough to take out ten demons."

"You're here for information, then?"

"Mostly to be sure you were alive, but yes, information would be nice."

Mary smirks, a twist of the mouth Dean got solely from her. "Yellow-eyed demons?"

"Only one, Azazel."

"Yeah, him."

"Really?"

"He's interested in one of the boys. I don't know which. Does Ellen know?"

"Yes. She didn't so much ask as tell me on the phone after she heard you were kidnapped."

"Sam doesn't."

"No, you left me with very little uncertainty as to your opinion on that."

She smiles, and he sees traces of the old hunter there. "You're a smart boy, Cas. Don't tell Dean, either. He doesn't accept lies, ever." She rolls her eyes. "Well, you know that. Wait until he's admitted he's head over heels for you, then you can kiss the sense back into him."

Castiel smiles wryly. "I doubt that would work."

"Don't try to tell me you know my son better than I do."

"All due respect, ma'am, I've seen his soul."

She snorts indelicately. "Yeah, and I've seen the way he looks at you." She looks around quickly, as though she were awake and in the warehouse. "I'll be fine. Don't try to stage a rescue, it won't work. Even with a bunch of ages. I'll pray if I need you or if I have anything to tell you. That includes if there's a window for you to get me the fuck outta here. We clear?"

"As glass."

"Then get out of my dream and back to my boys."

He salutes and leaves, making sure her dream continues exactly where it left off.

When Castiel lands in Dean's bedroom shortly after, Dean's eyes flutter open, conditioned to believe that the wing sound means it is time to wake up. "Cas..?" He mutters, the sounds seeping together.

"You need to sleep. I will talk with you in a dream."

"I-" Castiel does not wait before pressing two fingers to Dean's head, simultaneously letting himself into Dean's consciousness.

"Hello, Dean."

"Dick move."

Castiel shrugs. "No one will ever love you with bags under your eyes."

"Fuck you, these are designer."

Castiel smiles. "I found your mother. I cannot rescue her, but she knows how to communicate with me should the need arise. They will keep her alive."

"They?"

"Demons."

Dean groans. "My life is so weird."

"Yes, but Dean, we have to talk."

"Isn't that my line?" He mutters, but sits obligingly down into the grass his mind has conjured.

"I was assigned to be your guardian angel," Castiel says as he sits directly in front of Dean. "Which means I have to protect you until the orders are rescinded, or indefinitely. Most often, guardian angels are silent, invisible presences in their ward's lives. Most people with guardian angels don't know they have them. This is not the most common method by rule, merely convenience – they're not forced to hide their angelic nature, they don't have to maintain a careful distance at all times or stay so close it is hard to take out remote threats. I chose, however, to take a corporeal form in your life."

"I kinda knew that, Cas." Dean says, eyebrows raised.

Castiel ignores him. "I had to hide who I am due to convention. Had I not obtained permission from Heaven, which I wouldn't have under most circumstances, I would have fallen from grace. This made my job difficult.

"You chose me as your friend, I did not force your emotions – I don't think I could do that if I tried. I would still have maintained a careful distance had you… not been you, I suppose. You're my best friend, Dean, never believe that I don't love you. All I ever lied about was that I'm an angel."

"That's a pretty big lie, Cas." Dean mutters, and it's curious that he blushes even in dreams. He meets Castiel's eyes. "I'm sorry I was kind of a dick this week. I'd explain myself, but obviously you already know what's going on in this dumb brain. I mean, I can't pretend I won't also be a dick now, because that's kinda who I am… and it's pretty weird that you're a super-powered, immortal thing with fluffy wings and a halo." He laughs weakly. "But uh… yeah. You're my best friend, we're family. You and me and Sammy against the world, right?"

"Right. I will leave you to sleep now." Cas starts to stand.

"No! Uh… I have a few questions. This doesn't, like, drain my batteries, right?"

Cas smiles. "No. You will rest as usual." I won't, however.

"Then… can you stay? I wanna know all about your superpowers." He grins, so Cas sits back down instantly.

He rolls his eyes. "Ask your questions, Dean, but remember that I'm not a science project."

"Boring."

* * *

The two open eyes the next morning in unison at the sound of the doorbell. "Dean, you may want to get that."

Dean frowns slightly. "I'm in my boxers. And don't you need to check for demons or something?"

Cas smiles. "I can do that from here. I know who it is, and it's for you. And they won't mind your attire."

"Fine." Cas follows shortly behind Dean as he goes to open the door, and brushes the person at the door's mind ever so slightly, so as to be able to watch Dean's face as he finds Sam on the doorstep.

"Sammy?"

"What's up? I'm moving back in. Brady stinks."

"Ugh, really? So I have to put up with 13-year-old boy stink instead?" Dean casts a look at Cas, quickly, asking really?

Cas nods.

Thank you.

"Yup. Cas said that you guys apparently count as legal adults enough to look after me."

"Fine, if we must. But put your shit in your room, asswipe, I've finally got this place exactly as I like it and I will not have your stuff fucking it all up."

"Fine." Sam and Dean both stop to grin at each other. "I've missed you."

"Yeah, you too, little guy."

Cas can't help but smile to watch the brothers hug.

* * *

**as always, thanks for reading (and my tumblr's angelusheroicus thank you) xo**


	8. Rejection

Dean isn't waiting by his locker for Cas after school.

And yeah, Dean isn't exactly perfectly cheerful with Cas, but it's been a week now and he seems all right. Not perfect, but pretty good. And he _has_ been waiting for Cas at his locker every day.

So Cas waits for fifteen minutes, even though he knows waiting for more than a couple of minutes is overkill. Then he checks his phone.

No messages.

He wants to extend his mind to check for demons, but he knows there aren't any – he has been checking. So, instead, he flies away.

The halls are empty anyway – no one else waited fifteen minutes for someone.

###

Cas finally gets a call an hour later. "Dean."

"I'm really sorry, Cas! But… mom's back!" Cas can hear the grin.

Cas frowns. "How?"

"She walked in, Cas, what do you think? Anyway, I'm sorry, she picked us up from school early – can you take care of Baby, by the way? – and she said she wanted family time, specifying without you."

"But, Dean, how did she escape from the de-"

"I've gotta go! Pie, man! Pie!" Dean hangs up.

"I know of your fascination with pie, but one day, I'm really going to have to drill a sense of priority into your brain." Cas mutters to himself.

Then he realises, swiftly, that a feeling of… _anger_ is welling up within him.

Angels don't feel emotion, it's the primary characteristic of the celestial. At least, the emotions they feel are dulled down almost beyond recognition; clearly, some of his brothers feel pride more than they ought.

But Castiel feels, he's sure, more keenly than he is supposed to – for instance, this anger, or, as he thinks in a rush, his affection for Dean and his desperation for his approval and love.

He's suddenly glad that he closed his mind off from the other angels when he started his assignment to Dean, because they would not have missed this.

###

Castiel decides to deal with his anger healthily – he tracks down the nearest demons and goes to smite them. This way he is performing his duty, as he well knows.

Of course, his brothers often forget that they are to protect the Earth, and, more importantly, the humans, but Castiel remembers and hopes this will be enough to compensate for his failures.

The smiting costs him a great amount of energy, however, and he realises just how unwise it was after he takes down the last demon, the fifth one, and has to fly away it so as to avoid blame from the police car he knows is coming to follow up on a tip about the 'ungodly screaming' she heard. He ends up collapse by the side of a building, in an alley where an untidy, bearded man stares at him, wide-eyed.

It's all Castiel can do to glare at the man before he leaves quickly, muttering to himself. Castiel knows he has not revealed himself to anyone with any credibility, but makes a note of the feel of the man's soul so as to bless him later, when his energy has returned.

Castiel _should_ go into a trance-like state so as to preserve his energy and recuperate, but something about his situation with Mary and Dean is tugging on his consciousness.

"Mary wouldn't act like that to me," he mutters, drearily. Then, "Mary wouldn't act like that to me," he is more alert.

He flies immediately to outside the Winchester house and reaches his grace gently out until he feels Dean, and latches on until he is able to get into his brain.

_Dean._ Castiel then carefully masks Dean's surprise, and pushes back any outward signs of confusion.

_Cas?!_

_Yes. I need to talk to you without the others being aware._

_Why?_

_That is not Mary. Get Sam out of the room._

Without any celestial manipulation, Dean turns to Sam and says, "wait, you wanted to do that practice paper tonight, right? If you don't start now, you won't be finished until, like, after dinner."

Sam looks up at a clock – and he looks far shorter through Dean's eyes – and replies, "oh, yeah! Mom, you don't mind if I go do that, right?"

The demon in Mary smiles kindly. "Of course not. I couldn't keep you from homework, eh?" She winks.

Dean stands up with Sam. "You need me to help you set up?"

"Yeah, that'd be good." Sam sighs. "I can never get my clock to work with me…"

Dean laughs as the two leave the room. When Cas is sure they are out of range, he flies to directly in front of Mary, lifts her up, and pins her against the wall. "Get out of her before I make you," he mutters in a sharp tone.

She laughs. "Oh, Cas, darling! You're smarter than I gave you credit for, but obviously, you still lack smarts. I'm in your beloved Mary for a reason, I won't give up that eas-"

Castiel doesn't let the demon finish talking – _Sam might hear_ – and, instead, presses a hand to her mouth and draws the twisted, demonic soul out. When it is out entirely, Cas keeps a careful hand on Mary's suddenly limp body and forces the demon back into Hell in a blast of white light.

Cas almost stumbles, but manages to remain steady. He inspects Mary with only the barest amount of grace, deducing that she will remain passed out for a while – although the demon healed her physically, she still bears the psychological scars from two weeks of torture.

He is trying to decide whether it would be easier to fly Mary up to her bed or walk her when Dean comes back down the stairs.

"Mom…" he whispers, walking faster to take her from Cas' grateful arms.

"The demon is gone. She is physically well, but she has been tortured for two weeks. She is strong and will recover fine, but she needs sleep, now."

"Okay," Dean murmurs. "I'll take her. How about you, though? You look tired. And, uh, I thought angels didn't sleep?"

Cas smiles, following Dean up the stairs. "We don't. However, when we use too much grace in too short of a period, we need recuperation – I go into a trance state, usually."

"Right then, get into bed." Dean nods his head at his own room.

"What? Dean, I-"

"Cas. Get into bed." Dean fixes Cas with a serious look.

"Dean-"

"Look, maybe you're my guardian angel or whatever, but I'm your best friend and, for fuck's sake, you need to rest. I'll let you know if I need you, okay?"

Cas bites his lip, but smiles. "Okay."

Dean rolls his eyes. "Good. Now go, all right? And… thanks."

"Any time, Dean." Cas answers, his smile slightly softer.

"Get your ass in my bed and stop waiting for me to come snuggle." Dean turns and stalks off with Mary to put _her_ to bed, too.

And Cas loves him.

* * *

**sorry for the later-than-usual posting & the shortness of the chapter; wasn't sure how to fluff it out! I'll try to make next week's better & longer to make up for **

**as always, my tumblr is angelusheroicus (and I occasionally post drabbles there that I don't post anywhere else so if you like my writing you should totes check it out)**


	9. trance state

Cas slips out of his trance state into sudden consciousness at roughly 3am to the feeling of Dean's body wrapped around him.

He smiles slightly, sensing leaking feelings of contentedness from Dean at the return to familiarity, so he stays. He has no reason to move.

Falling into a half-trance feels more comfortable than it ever has.

###

Dean wakes up 7 hours later and rolls immediately, sheepishly away from Cas, hoping he didn't notice and knowing that's probably a futile dream.

"Hello, Dean." Cas says, sitting up in a fluid motion that tells Dean that whatever he's been doing is nothing remotely like sleep.

"Sorry 'bout this," Dean waves a hand clumsily. "I'd've slept on the floor, but-"

Cas frowns, confused. "It's fine. It is your sleeping space and you are entitled to it. Besides, we have shared a bed for most of your life, I see no reason why I should start getting offended now." He smiles a little.

"Sure. But… it's just that last week you didn't, so I just kinda thought…"

"You spent 10 or so years telling me cuddling wasn't 'manly', Dean. I revealed I didn't have to sleep, and figured you'd prefer not to."

Dean has rare moments where most of his brain comes together to broadcast a single thought, and this time it's a moderately affectionate '_you dumbass_'. Instead of saying that, however, he sits up and turns away from Cas to get clothed, calling over his shoulder, "do you really think I'd let you cuddle if I didn't want you to?"

_No. But you like to think I believe everything you say._

"Actually, don't answer that. D'you know if mom's okay?" Dean doesn't hesitate to get changed in front of his oldest friend.

"She should be. The demon healed her fully before bringing her here, and she's strong enough to withstand the psychological trauma. If it happens to be too much of a burden, I can help her… she'd kill me if I did it without her consent, though." Cas chuckles.

Dean laughs in response. "She would, wouldn't she? I'm glad I didn't totally reject my mom, then. Good to have a willing killer at your back," he winks, but as he's stepping into jeans at the time, some of the effect is lost.

Cas idly wonders if Dean has realised that having a guardian angel is the equivalent of having the ultimate bodyguard – that it is, in fact, his _duty_ to be the willing killer at his back.

"Can I ask a question, Cas?"

"Of course you can."

"You said one of your powers was to be able to put people to sleep."

"Yes."

"Is that what the cuddling's about?"

Cas chuckles softly. "No. If it was, I'd have enforced the cuddling this week. I can only put people to sleep with a specific gesture."

"The two fingers to forehead thing, right?"

"Yes."

"Okay, I kinda thought so. But I always kinda found it easier to sleep when you were there, figured it was the angel thing."

"It might be."

"Huh? You just sai-"

"Not _intentionally_."

"Dude, you're interrupting me a lot today." Dean mutters, sitting back on the bed.

"Sorry," Cas says with a slight smirk. "Guardians have a bond with their charge. Usually, this bond solely allows a guardian to know if their charge is in danger when they are out of reach – say, in a trance state. Our bond, however, is… more profound. I can sense your emotions, and the occasional… 'loud' thought, for instance, without trying to read your mind. It is possible the presence of one another would bring reassurance and comfort."

"Okay. Good to know I'm not just going crazy co-dependent or something." Dean grins.

"Oh, well, that's also a possibility," Cas grins back. "I honestly don't know, Dean. A guardian taking a corporeal form to look after their charge has never been done before, I can't confidently give you an answer about any of the side effects."

"That's all right, Cas. I know you don't know anything." His wink, this time, has more of the desired effect. "You can tell me about the fire, though, right?"

Cas meets Dean's eyes, only slightly surprised by the sudden conversation change. "Yes, if you'd like that."

Dean nods. "Yeah, I think I would."

"Okay. There was a demon, Azazel, in Sam's room, above his cot. He cried, probably before Azazel arrived, and Mary got out of bed to check on him. Seeing a figure over his cot, she figured it was John and left him to it. John was downstairs watching TV, though, so she started to run back. This is about when I realised Azazel's presence. He… has a process, and I knew what would happen: had Mary gone back to Sam, she would have been burnt to death. This would have been interrupting Azazel, who was... trying to feed Sam demon blood, for a later plot. I got Mary outside, and… convinced her to stay there. I later explained. She bears no grudge. Unfortunately, John noticed Mary when she went to run into Sam's room, and he followed… so Azazel set fire to him. I could not intervene, I was trying to get you out without angelic intervention at this time… when the fire started, I flew to Sam. I fixed a… glamour, I suppose, but it was more planting a suggestion in your mind than changing anything about me, to make me look as though I were John, and handed Sam to you and got you to take him outside."

Dean looks slightly paler than usual, but Cas hasn't told him much on the gruesome side that he did not already know – he only learnt of Azazel. "Why would that demon be feeding blood to Sammy?"

"Regular consumption of demon blood in humans gives the human powers. What powers they gain differs from case to case, but with work and more demon blood, all can be earned. Having a small amount at an earlier age makes this easier in later life, makes it less likely the body will reject the blood. It makes a person stronger, too."

"Okay… but why Sam?"

"It is not my place to tell you that."

Dean frowns. "I thought-"

"It is not heaven's place, at all." Cas smiles slightly.

"Oh. Then who's is it?"

Cas simply shakes his head.

"Fine. Did the demon manage to feed the blood to Sam?"

Cas pauses. "Unfortunately, yes. Only a drop… but it is enough."

"What?" Dean looks angry and sad, but, for some reason, not at Cas.

"I am keeping an eye for any manifestations, but otherwise, there is nothing I can do. It is beyond my powers. I apologise, I should have sensed Azazel nearby-"

Dean narrows his eyes at Cas. "Don't be sorry, your link only works when I'm in direct danger, right?"

"Yes… how did you know that?"

"Hunch. Look, you didn't think you'd have to pay that much attention then – how much trouble could one human get in?" He laughs a little, and Cas is surprised at how well Dean is able to characterise him, even then. "Everyone makes mistakes. Yours sucks, but I'd have probably ended up entirely parentless without you. Don't worry."

Cas smiles wryly. "Angels aren't supposed to make mistakes."

"Then it was meant to be." Dean grins. "It makes me feel a little better that you're not celestially perfect, actually."

Cas rolls his eyes. "Dean!"

"What? Knowing your best friend's an angel kinda intimidates a guy."

Cas just shakes his head.

"Can we… do anything about Azazel?" Dean asks quietly.

"Not… really. I could track him down, theoretically – demons are more distinctive than humans, and he is unique – but he is hidden. I could find him still, but it would take far longer. My plan was to wait until he revealed himself."

Dean sighs. "But that'd be risky, because it would be starting his plot, too."

"Yes, probably." Cas smiles slightly, because Dean still thinks he's unintelligent when it's clear he is anything but.

"All right. But I'm now gonna hold you personally accountable if Sammy turns into a demon."

Cas laughs. "It would take more demon blood than a drop for that to happen. I'm not sure it _could_ happen, actually. But it won't – I check for demons everywhere, now." He smiles sheepishly.

"You're a paranoid bastard, Cas." Dean grins. "Guess I should be glad, though. How many times have you saved my life?"

"Ah, only about five or six times… today. That's what you were asking, right?" Cas grins in return.

"Oh my God, that was an _awful_ joke. Can I teach you how to joke properly? Please?"

"No, clearly not, since I learnt my sense of humour from you."

"You're a dick!"

"No, Dean, I'm an angel of the Lord."

"You're a _winged_ dick!"

* * *

**sorry this was posted later than usual; had downtime u feel?**

**my tumblr: angelusheroicus**


	10. Smile

Dean smiles. "You'll stick around today, right? It feels like we haven't actually spent any time together recently."

Cas smiles in return, feeling as though he could float on the news that Dean wants to spend time with him. "Of course. I have nothing better to do."

Dean laughs. "You make it sound like a chore, you asshole!"

Cas grins, "Wait, am I supposed to be enjoying myself with you? Because, you know, I'm not."

"Why am I even friends with you? So not worth it." He grabs Cas' hand and turns, pulling him gently out of the room. "C'mon, let's go check on mom."

"She's sleeping," Cas replies, though he follows behind Dean easily.

"I know, I just wanna check on her with my own eyes," Dean replies with an easy smile, and squeezes Cas' hand slightly to tell him there's no offense intended.

"I know," Cas says with a smile back.

Dean peeks around Mary's door quietly, without knocking, and Cas knows he's checking that she looks peaceful. If she doesn't, he'll worry. It's just a pity she'll be faking peacefulness for a while in her waking hours.

"She's fine," Dean closes the door with a smile. "You wanna go back to my room? I got this re-"

"Dean!" Sam calls, probably from the kitchen.

Dean pulls Cas carefully away from Mary's room before replying, "What is it, loser? I'm busy."

"No, you've _got_ to see this!"

Cas furrows his brow and reaches out to touch Sam's consciousness to see, when Dean frowns and asks, "D'you mind if we go see? He won't shut up unless we do."

"No, of course," Cas smiles, "I'm curious now."

Dean grins, "Yeah, me too, actually."

The two walk into the kitchen, hands still intertwined, to see a regular picture of Sam at the table, eating cereal.

"_This_ is what you wanted me to see?" Dean raises his eyebrows.

"No! Okay, right, you know how you sit down ready to eat and you realise your phone's way over there and you can't really be bothered to get it but you don't want to not have it and you're like 'you know what, telekinesis would be so great right now'?"

Dean shrugs, "Yeah, I guess. What's this gotta do with anything?"

Sam grins and holds his hand out in the direction of his phone, then concentrates. For a long second, nothing happens. Then, slowly but surely, it scoots forward a jerky inch into Sam's hand.

"No way!" Dean says. "That's so cool, do it again."

"I can't. It hurts my head when I do it." Sam pouts.

"That... doesn't sound good. Ca-" Dean starts to turn to Cas.

"Dean, I've got to go. I need to do that research paper for my Religion class, do you remember?"

Dean frowns, and thinks as clearly as he can, _I thought you were sticking around today._

_I was. But telekinesis is a manifestation of demon powers. I need to find out more about Azazel's plan, because it will follow soon after._

"It was on demons, right?" Dean rolls his eyes. "You should really become a regular teenager someday and not do your homework on a Saturday." He releases Cas' hand after a quick squeeze. He's sad, but not annoyed.

"Sometimes I don't have much of a choice. I'll see you later, Sam."

"See ya, Cas!"

###

After Cas leaves, he flies to the nearest empty beach. _Balthazar. I have need of you_, he carefully directs to his oldest friend.

With a flap of wings, a lanky blonde man appears beside him. "Cassie! Long time no see."

"Balthazar. It is good to see you." Castiel allows himself a smile. "But this is not a social call."

Balthazar sighs. "I figured as much. Well, it better be good, you interrupted a lovely Braz-"

"What do you know about Azazel?"

"Not much. There's been more about him recently... surely you've heard?"

Castiel shakes his head. "No. I shut my brain to the conversations of our brothers and sisters when I took up my post on Earth so as to focus better."

Balthazar laughs, "You've always been an idiot. I _left_ Heaven, and I still listen. All we know... he wants to take over the Earth, and he is creating an army."

"Creating? Not forming?"

"Creating," Balthazar nods. "Why do you ask?"

"Because I know how he's creating his army. I have to go. Thank you for your help." And Castiel flies off before Balthazar can respond.

###

There is a wealth of knowledge available to agents of Heaven, structured rather like a library. Different tiers are available to those of different ranks, and Castiel has access to a tier or two more than the average angel.

However, to get to this repository, one must go through a well-populated area and, given Castiel has been absent for nearly 20 years now, no matter how short this time is in the lifespan of an angel, he has been missed, and it is difficult to politely avoid those that have.

He eventually finds himself in the library, alone, and is able to research the effects of demon blood.

Time passes differently in Heaven, but Castiel thinks it takes him an Earth day before he finds anything.

It's nothing truly useful, all it tells Castiel is that vast quantities of demon blood are required before anything can truly change in a human – but it is vastly reassuring.

Half of him wants to stay, simply because he knows the ordeal he will have to go through to get here, but the other half, the more dominant half, reminds him that he had told Dean that he would spend time with him yesterday and he has no need to be here. So he flies instantly down to the Winchester house, where he hears lunch being set up inside.

Mary answers the knock. "Cas," she says warmly. "You know you can just come in."

"The door was locked." Cas smiles. "It's good to see you well, Mary."

"I hear thanks are in order." She says quietly, though Cas can hear how loud Sam and Dean are being and knows Sam has very little chance of hearing.

"Not necessary. It is both my duty and pleasure."

Mary smiles, and pats a hand on his shoulder before bringing him through to the kitchen. "All the same. Thank you."

"Any time, Mary."

"Now, you'll be joining us for lunch, right?"

"I've already eaten, thank you, but I will sit with you."

"You bet you will." She grins, and Cas can see the hunter she once was.

"Cas!" Sam says gleefully, as the two walk into the kitchen.

"Hello, Sam. How're you?"

"I'm good. How 'bout you?"

"Pretty good." He and Dean finally seem to have stopped their loud activity, and Sam starts eating. Dean looks at Cas and starts thinking loudly again. _What did you find?_

_Not much, not yet. All I know is he's safe as long as he consumes no more demon blood – which should be relatively easy to ensure – and it would be better if he did not practice his powers. That's not due to biology, though; more that the powers will get stronger and power can be just as addictive as any substance._

_Gotcha. Stop Sammy from playing the vamp with demons and being too lazy to get up and grab his phone. Easy._

Cas resists the urge to laugh, but the corners of his mouth turn up as he looks up at Dean across the turn.

Both boys miss Mary watching them with a smile.


End file.
